A Bath Gone Wrong
by Lilybud the Storyteller
Summary: Yurick has just suffered through being dragged by a skeleton, stuck in a coffin, and chased by a soul-sucking vampire. Now, all he wants is to unwind with a hot, relaxing bath. Unfortunately, his friends have other ideas in mind. Takes place after Chapter 20: The Haunted Mansion. Some mild swearing included.


"A Bath Gone Wrong"

A _The Last Story_ fanfiction story

By, Lilybud the Storyteller

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**Disclaimer: I do not own ****The Last Story**** or any of its characters.**

12/26/13: I did some minor edits, mostly about wording things, just so the story is a bit smoother.

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Usually Yurick would stay at the back of the mercenary's group as they traveled from mission to mission, both for tactical reasons and personal reasons. This time, however, the mage was walking—charging, more like it—in front of the party. Dagran, Zael, and Lowell were practically running to keep up with him.

The mage rammed his way through Lazulis Island, shoving past the crowds of people. Instead of admiring the island's renowned plazas, Yurick only saw the dark, ominous alleyways that threw his senses on high alert. The faster he got to Ariela's Tavern, the better.

"Yurick, slow down, dammit!" Dagran shouted after him, clearly out of breath. "We're already exhausted and we don't need to chase after you, too!"

Ignoring this, Yurick continued to charge past the area until at long last the familiar tavern came into view. He marched up the few steps and shoved open the door. He was immediately overwhelmed with the rank odor of alcohol and musty air. The raucous uproar of the many patrons sent his teeth on edge…more than usual, that is. Somewhere in the crowds, a tankard slammed onto a table and Yurick jumped before scowling in annoyance.

Without realizing it, his eyes automatically scanned the tavern for Mirania—her quiet, soothing presence always calmed him down—but one glance told him the healer wasn't there. She was probably outside feeding the birds or something.

Another familiar face popped out from the crowd. Unfortunately, it was one he didn't want to see. Syrenne was sitting at a table with her fingers wrapped tightly around a tankard, as per usual. She brandished the mug in a wild swing when she saw him. "Oy, Yurick!" she howled over the noise of the crowd. "How did the mission go?"

Yurick stormed past her table, not giving the warrior a second glance before stomping up the stairs. He didn't look back when he retorted curtly, "Ask Horace."

An image of the reedy archeologist rose up in the mage's mind._ Couldn't even mention that we were walking into a bloody cursed mansion,_ Yurick brooded. He was halfway up the staircase when he heard the tavern's door creak open before slamming shut again. A few pairs of shuffling footsteps followed the noise. The mage was hidden from view when he paused on the next stair, his hand resting on the coarse rail.

A moment later, Yurick could pick out Syrenne's disgruntled voice. "What's his problem?" The fire mage had a funny feeling of whom she was referring to.

Lowell's drawl answered, "We had a go at a man-eating house. The lad was 'bout ready to piss his pants by the end of it."

"Precious…" Syrenne's hearty laughter seemed to lift about the tavern's racket.

The mage would've heard Dagran ordering the two to knock it off, but he did not stay long enough to listen. Yurick didn't waste another second as he continued up the staircase, putting unnecessary force in each step he took. It wasn't long before he was in the room the male mercenaries were renting. He slammed the door behind him and almost instantly the din of the tavern was shut out. Yurick let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.

Unfortunately, his tense muscles refused to relax.

With his hand still resting on the doorknob, Yurick warily eyed the hidden space beneath the rows of beds. Suddenly the shadows seemed threatening… It was like he was a child again, still frightened of the monsters that would gobble him up if he was naughty. "You're being childish," Yurick chided himself. Even so, the thought of something lurking underneath the beds made his stomach crawl like a bunch of worms.

The mage knew he wouldn't get any piece of mind otherwise, so he hastily stooped to his hands and knees and checked underneath each bed, muttering about the irrationality of it the whole time. Of course, he first made sure the door was firmly closed behind him.

Finding nothing but dust bunnies (and some highly salacious papers under Lowell's bed), Yurick stood up. "See?" he muttered to himself, swiping some dust off his clothing. "Nothing's going to jump out and eat you, so stop being ridiculous."

With that, he pushed open the bathing room's door and stepped inside. The room was empty except for a rack of fresh towels and a wide, square bath set into the floor. A small bottle—a complimentary gift from the tavern—rested on top of the pile of towels. Yurick grabbed the bottle, flipped the lid, and poured a few drops of liquid into the bath's water. The pleasing scent of lavender and mint immediately rose from the bath. Taking a deep breath, Yurick let the soothing fragrances wash over him and unknot his tense shoulders. The other mercenaries would laugh at him for indulging in such a _feminine_ luxury, but they could go to hell for all he cared.

Yurick shrugged off his jacket and tossed the clothing onto the floor. However, he hesitated at the water's edge. While Ariela's Tavern was of a higher caliber than most he had been to, the place never kept the baths warm. You either had to heat the water yourself or suffer the icy consequences. Right now, after what he had just experienced at that bloody mansion, the warm luxury was a must.

With a sigh, the fire mage closed his eyes and brought his hands together. He mentally pushed all thoughts away until his mind was but a blank slate, prepared to accept the upcoming magic. It didn't take long for his feet to slowly lift a few inches from the ground, but the mage didn't notice that; he was too busy focusing on the spark of warmth nestled between his palms. It felt like a fluttering butterfly, and every beat of its delicate wings tickled his skin.

_Creak!_

Yurick's concentration shifted at the intruding sound. _Was somebody coming upstairs? _

_No. _The mage shoved the thought away._ Concentrate. _

The pulsing ember swelled to the size of a thimble as it emitted a harmless wisp of smoke. The goal wasn't to make the fire become fully grown, of course, like it would for an actual battle; it simply had to be big enough to warm his bath. A few more seconds and it should be fin—

_Tap-tap-tap!_

Only years of experience kept Yurick from opening his eyes. While keeping his mind focused, he strained his hearing while trying to place the noise. Not a moment had passed before the rapid tapping came again. It sounded almost hollow, like two sticks striking one another.

Two sticks…

…Or two _bones._

A chill crept down Yurick's spine. _Don't be absurd, _he thought._ There's nothing to be afraid of. _Despite those words, the ember spurted into a sudden flame as it fed off his emotions.

Deciding to cut the spell short (for no particular reason, of course), Yurick opened his eyes; the mental chain that connected his mind to the supernatural broke in a clean swipe. He was just about to toss the ball of flame into the water when—

_BANG!_

The door was thrown against the wall and Yurick whirled around, his heart racing a mile per minute. Looming in front of the doorway was a towering skeleton—the same one the mercenaries had just fought at the man-eating mansion. Wide-eyed, Yurick stared at the pair of black, empty pits that made his blood run cold. All he could hear was the skeleton's snap of its bones whenever it moved and the chattering of its decayed teeth, as if jeering at him.

In a split second, it charged at Yurick!

Without thinking, the mage screamed in pure terror when he flung his fireball at the skeleton. The force of the action unbalanced Yurick and he slipped backwards, plummeting into the icy water with a loud, inelegant splash. _God, that's freezing!_ Yurick cursed, yearning for breath. When his silver head broke through the surface, a torrent of furious swearing exploded from the skeleton.

But…skeletons don't talk…

Still wading in the bath, Yurick struggled to blink the droplets of water from his eyelashes so he could see the skeleton. The corpse was crumpled against the corner of the room. Its ratty clothing and bones were singed with black from the fireball the mage had thrown at it. Jerky movements came from underneath the carcass, like something was fighting to get freed. Yurick watched with astonishment as the bones were finally shoved aside to reveal a blonde, _breathing_ man. When the skeleton hit the ground, its bones easily fell apart into a dusty pile; the skull rolled a few times before coming to a stop. With a more focused eye, it was clear the structure was made from nothing more than cheap stage props—not an actual decaying body.

_"Lowell?"_ Yurick stuttered, not believing his eyes.

"Who d'ya think, you big lug?" growled the blonde as he rubbed his forehead, wincing. Lowell's face broke into horror when his fingers ran through his badly singed hair. "Ah, you've gone and done it now! How am I supposed to flirt with ladies like this?" Yup, it was definitely Lowell.

Surprise was replaced by rage as Yurick climbed out of the bath, shaking from both anger and cold. His fists were clenched and rigid by his side when he towered over the blonde, shooting him the most hatred-filled glare he could muster. Lowell didn't seem very panicked, however, and that only fueled the fire mage's fury. Through gritted teeth, Yurick snarled, "Why in _hell's name_ would you sneak up on me like that?! Were you _born_ an idiot, or has chasing too many skirts made you one? If you don't get out of here _right now_, I'm going to—"

_"Whoa!"_

The mage's words stuttered to a stop when he turned towards the unexpected newcomer. Syrenne stood frozen at the doorway, clearly taken aback. The warrior's deep blue eyes were the size of saucers as she took in the scene. Her mouth hung open like a gaping fish out of water.

Yurick's rush of anger suddenly dwindled away to form a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Did _anybody_ know how to knock before entering a _private_ _bathing_ room? Lowell, on the other hand, looked characteristically unruffled when he lazily gazed at her.

"Fancy meeting you here," he drawled, as if it was absolutely normal for a woman to be in a men's bathing room. "Hoping to get a peek, eh? Wouldn't blame you if you were."

The woman's surprise instantly morphed into irritation. "Don't flatter yourself," Syrenne retorted, shooting him a scowl. Then her gaze turned to Yurick. The mage suddenly felt the urge to dive underwater again. The cold wasn't _that_ bad, he decided. The unwarmed bath was certainly better than Syrenne's piercing blue eyes, which raised pinpricks of ice on his skin as she slowly raked her gaze unabashedly up and down his bare chest.

"_You_, on the other hand, have been holding out on us," commented Syrenne, who was still looking at the mage like she was trying to decide which beer to drink first. "Without that damn jacket on, you look completely different! I never would've thought that petite frame of yours could pack so much hardcore muscle. The whole 'just-came-out-of-the-bath-dripping-wet' look works for you, too."

A brilliant red, clearly visible on Yurick's pale skin, burned its way over his face and down his neck. He didn't know which he was more embarrassed about: the fact that a woman had just seen him half-naked, or the fact the same woman had just called him _petite. PETITE!_

"W-what are you even doing here?!" Though he tried to inject as much anger in his tone as humanly possible, his voice still cracked at the end of the sentence, which made him blush (ahem, _darken_) even further.

A smirk played on Syrenne's lips, her eyes twinkling with mirth. _Of course_ she would be enjoying his humiliation… "We heard a racket up here and Ariela started to get worried," Syrenne informed, still looking like she was having the time of her life. "She asked Dagran to see what all the noise was about, but he was too busy cleaning that bloody sword of his, so he sent me instead. Lazy oaf, he is..."

"Why not Zael?" asked Lowell, though he didn't seem too bothered that Syrenne was there instead.

"Poor lad's too busy lusting over Calista."

Turning her head, Syrenne seemed to notice the scattered skeleton for the first time. She raised an eyebrow at the pile, more out curiosity than surprise. "I see you men are into some rather naughty stuff at bath time."

Lowell gave an unconcerned shrug. "Just playing a little prank on Yurick, here, that's all."

The said fire mage looked incredulously at the two mercenaries. "Am I the _only_ one with any sense?" he snapped, seething. "_GET OUT!"_

Neither of the two mercenaries took any notice at the outburst. They merely glanced at each other, seemingly indifferent. Then Lowell suddenly sniffed the air with a puzzled expression. "Am I the only one who smells that god-awful stench?"

As if guided by a mysterious force, his eyes were drawn to the small bottle still sitting on the towel rack. "Ah," he said, a knowing smirk on his face. "Still into perfume, are you, Yurick?"

Syrenne gave a loud snort while Yurick's whole body turned pink. Suddenly, the thought of jumping into the bath and staying underwater for a few hours sounded more and more appealing by the second.

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**I would write a longer author's note, but I've been writing for so long that the letters on the screen are starting to play tricks on me...Mean little letters...**

**Anyways, hope you've liked this and please review! Also, if you spot any errors-grammar or otherwise-just please tell me via review and I'll fix it ASAP.**

**Thanks!**


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